In the Mud
by IKEMEN
Summary: Southeast Asia, not long after the major war in Europe. A newly-established nation finds itself under threat of Neuroi dispersed in small groups scattered in the rainforest of the peninsular. A joint air/land Witch force takes on the task to eradicate them. Meanwhile, a corporal finds himself reassigned to their base of operations... and has to deal with their monkey business.
1. Chapter 1

Usual disclaimer: I own nothing of the series, I am writing for fun. Also because I blame a fellow writer for the stupidly strong temptations. And without further due, have fun reading (or throwing your darts at me, whichever floats your boat).

* * *

It was a very rough road to the camp.

"That place's full of the naughty ones, boyo. The boss over there ain't no pushover either. You sure you'd be all right? Gotta say, sending you there over a ruined patch of flowers is a bit petty. I mean, like, seriously?"

The driver, who has been full of things to talk about throughout our journey, asked that question.

I shrugged, and returned the driver a chuckle. "A punishment is a punishment. What am I to do about it?"

The base of operations for the 611st Joint Fighter Wing, as well as housing the 118th Joint Mechanized Corps.

According to hearsay from the top brass to the enlisted ranks, getting reassigned there is like getting sent to live in a penal colony. New recruits who got assigned there sent there get all kinds of bullying you can imagine… plus some more you possibly can't.

… Yet I feel somehow both pretty calm and anxious about getting there. Part of me wants to see for myself if it was as bad as they say. Another part of me is regretting that.

Corporal, or at least that's what my current rank is. In the battlefield they call me "Strike", and I kind of liked it. But I don't really want them to call me "Cpl. Strike," I feel it would be much more fitting when I do get to be a Sergeant some day. That aside…

"They say you're a lucky bastard, though. Imagine, a base full of ladies… you have to be gay to not like that, man. But that place is really harsh with guys for some reason. Almost every guy sent there either get booted out of the military for reasons nobody knows, and even if they make it back to their old camps they look as if they were put next to Neuroi, or possibly even worse."

The Neuroi.

Some sort of an alien existence that appeared a few years ago, and they say exposure to one's miasma, even for a Witch, can range from detrimental to outright fatal. They take on many forms, and recently, some also started to look like Witches, too.

And they cannot be killed by common firearms. Buggers, cheeky bastards. Pieces of shit. Someday there shall be a day where one can once more simply rain them with lead and blow them to bits. Otherwise it's the usual Witches this, Witches that every time one of these nuisances come by.

Speaking of which, there's these people called Witches on our side. And for some reason they have to somehow be prepubescent-looking women who somehow grows tails and ears as they use their magic. Magic, eh. I imagine that must be something pretty convenient.

Then again as a soldier, I believe that if it works then it works. Though personally even if it works it doesn't mean I like how it works. Really, I'd like it if someone out there would dedicate their time into figuring out how to make these buggers (the Neuroi) eat lead and drop dead like how any normal living being would. You know why? Because it seems I'm only here within the ranks along with the other men to support a bunch of girls getting their kills. I don't really like that.

Don't ask me why, I just don't. I mean, what else am I here for? When I pick up my rifle I expect anything I point at with it to die when I press the trigger. Yes, I am angry with the Neuroi for daring to defy this "magical boomstick" created by man for men.

"Oh yeah, actually, there's a reason why I'm asking if you would be fine there, man. For some reason that camp has a high turnover rate for male personnel. From getting KIA, MIA to outright booted out of the camp, I figure you'd have to be one hell of a motherfucker to get in there and still be in one piece, body and mind. Then again I guess you really are one, I mean what's with being in the forest for days in a Neuroi-infested land? That was some insane shit."

Oh, seems this driver knew of that story. Well, to be frank, I'm quite surprised at how it all turned out, too. Though considering how it happened then, I don't really see anything special with it. The kills go to a bunch of girls anyway.

"Oh, that? Jungle warfare. Being at the edge of an infested area makes me feel choked for air real hard, though. There are a few times I almost fainted but I managed to pull through somehow. It's mostly finding my way within the jungle, to point a company for an ambush, or calling in a squadron for an airstrike. Finding nests after nests."

"And you get no thanks for that?"

"Oh, I do. It's just that to actually dish out some hurt I have to call them in. These… uh, peashooters serve as distraction for the most part as well as shooting some other stuff out of the way where I could. So, yeah… You'd probably be better off asking those who went with me if they remember how their forest guide looked like. That's if they could."

"My condolences."

That makes it sound as if I actually died or something. Well, that reminds me, I was in a lot of trouble at that time. There were times I thought I'm going to bite the dust right there. It was really suffocating. And out of it there was this one experience I want to forget...

"Oh, we're here. Get ready to get down and greet your new lady boss."

– –

"Corporal Jean Titor, reporting. Ma'am, a good day to you."

The boss of the camp. Brigadier General Harley Briggs. Looks tough for her part, fitting of her rank. Though with that kind of appearance I am not sure if I used the correct honorific.

"Good day to you too. Also, for the record, it is 'Miss' for you. None of the girls here are married yet. I just hope you didn't come here to think of looking for a wife. They're off-limits to you. If you are then I suggest you give up your soldier's badge and uniform and go home."

"Far from it, Miss. And I believe I love my current career very, very much to give it up."

When speaking to a superior officer, no matter if they make sense to you or not, you have to reply back with a good tone. And by good I mean knowing your place. A really crafty private can probably knock even a general to their senses, but in general you'd better remind yourself that if you want to talk back, you'd better hope you don't get yourself a place in the defendant's seat of a court martial for defiance.

"Hmm. Very good… I take it that also means you're ready for your first duty, Corporal?"

"I would be very delighted to hear of it immediately, er, Miss."

"Good. Then it'll be the toilets for you first thing in the day. You see, the girls here have terrible clean-up habits, they need someone for that kind of uncool job."

Wait, what? Toilet clean-up? You have to be kidding me.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about the trash bin with used tampons and pads. Say, you don't have some sort of a sick inclination towards these, do you?"

"No, no! I don't. But having me to clean that up is… I mean I'm fine with the toilet and all. But, yes…"

"Then it's all good. I'd have to tell the top brass to sack you from the military if you do. Don't worry, you'll get to know how to dispose of them properly later. Though I'll have to keep it in mind to tell everyone about cleaning up after their own shit. No, not _that_ kind of shit, though there are toilets which are _that_ messy."

"Err..."

"Any objections?"

My moment of doubt was swiftly interrupted by a sharp glare accompanying that inquiry.

"… No."

"Good. After that, get ready for KP duty by eleven. You'll get to know the rest of everyone here by giving them their lunches."

… All right, this is feeling somewhat insane.

Me, with the enlisted rank of a Corporal, gets assigned to toilet cleaning and KP duty within my first few minutes of arrival. I wonder what would privates get to do in this situation. From the looks of it, I imagine it'd be a foot rug while facing down the floor, placed conveniently to get mud off their shoes before entering a building here.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get down to work real fast. It's only a few hours before afternoon. Oh, if you were a private you'd actually get some pretty easy jobs, you know. Like being a foot rug for the girls to get mud and dirt off their shoes after a few laps down the field before they enter the buildings. Some do like it, though, I wonder why."

They actually do!?

Actually, wait, what's with this camp, even. I remember it being "the worst place to be assigned to" sort of place from hearsay, probably this contributed to that.

"Come on, chop-chop! Or would you like a swing from this crop for you to move, you mule?"

"Y-yes, Ma'am!"

"It's 'Miss' to you, you forgetful bum! Now get to work. Pronto!"

And here we go, guess it's back to the drill sergeant hours for me here.

– –

Scrub, scrub, scrub. The sound of brush against the floor.

Either way, I was half-expecting the hygiene level here to be not all that bad. Turns out it was way worse than the worst I had expected. There were some broken doors, too. Some seats were missing, and there's a few broken pipes. The restrooms need more than just cleaning up. I can tolerate shit being everywhere on the floor but some of them looks as if they were thrown around, there were traces on the ceiling. As well as piss stains that look like a wild spraying of a Sten.

… Eugh. This toilet doesn't even look seasoned enough to pin the blame on whoever was previously here before it became a base of operations for the Witches. It's more like it was pretty brand new at some point but for some reason the way they used this restroom broke it in more ways than one.

Oh well. Clean-up, clean-up. Otherwise I figure going into the bushes for a dump might actually be a much more comfortable option for one who still wishes to tread upon this mess…

… And then there was one at the entrance.

And a pause.

"Uh, um..."

"Hello, there, pleased to make your acquaintance fellow soldier. Did you somehow miss the 'Cleaning in Progress' sign at the door, uh..."

"Er, Class 2 Private Heather Gurney! Pleased to meet you too! … Um, s-sir…?"

"Corporal Jean Titor, recently assigned here. … Say, you don't happen to be part of the 'foot rug' duty the Brigadier General told me about, do you…?"

"Eh? Me? Ah, no, no! … I don't know why myself but for some reason they say it's only reserved for the men… personally I don't really like seeing them getting that kind of job, so… um…"

Good, it seems she's at least able to introduce herself properly. I thought it'd be one of these annoying cases where the lady would scream upon a sudden first sight of an unfamiliar man in front of them. … The fact that all of these are happening inside the restroom aside.

"Well then, it seems we have a lot to do here so how about lending me a hand, Private?"

"Er, no can do, sir. The men here are expected to do all these by themselves and we cannot really give them any help so… um."

"Oh, really? What would they do if you did then? I can basically say I made you help me but will that stop them from pointing fingers at you too, if I may ask?"

"No… a-anyway, I am in a need to go about my business here, sir, so… if you will please…?"

I know this is an era where the young (or at least look like it) women get conscripted as potential additions to the Witches in service, but I think I might be looking at a tiny animal, like a hamster.

"In this toilet? Come on, you can see how…" I slowly spoke, one hand fanning the air in front of my nose, "… nasty it's looking right now? Don't you have better restrooms to go to?"

"Um… but… the seniors… told me..."

"Just a question, but how long have you been drafted into service?"

"Er, about six months right now, sir..."

Oh God, not that watery-eyed face. Okay, I think that as a private, she's being hazed. My guess was that there's really a much more amenable restroom available for use but her seniors were all hogging it and told her to scram.

Then behind her I saw several other figures. I assume they are fellow privates who got the same fate as her.

… Just what kind of base did I land into…

"Oh well."

I groaned. Well, this is a place where the ones who got sent here have some infamy with their name for the really stupid stuff, so adding a few more to my belt would just add more to the clown image some people think I have.

"Listen up, Private. You and your fellow privates will have to help me if you ladies want a decently workable loo for your business."

"B-but the orders..."

"When it comes to this kind of situation, common sense first, stupid orders later. Also if by any chance anyone asks why were you late, tell them the new Corporal guy accidentally fell asleep outside while cleaning and you guys had to harshly wake me up and finish it for you people to use."

"But that's…"

"Just do it. That way they will say it's my fault and not yours. It was my task in the first place."

And I figure this would do for a little bit of ice breaking. As I continue brushing the floor, I sensed something from my surroundings.

Next building, third floor by the window. I can see you, you know. Whoever you might be.

– –

It's almost lunchtime.

I somehow managed to get the toilet into a state where one would rather hightail it than think of taking a dump inside... into one where someone could at least comfortably sit on the stool for business. That is if they don't mind it being one of the stalls with the broken doors, though. Considering I had to do KP duty immediately afterwards, I had to clean myself up a lot.

I was thinking I could meet some more people from here assigned to KP, but for some reason I find myself back to meeting Pvt. Gurney and her fellow recruits once more. Don't tell me they were told to do KP as well…

"C… Corporal, sir!?"

"Hey, we meet again. You lot being tasked for KP duty too?"

"Y-yes… Along with…"

Gurney's stammering, hesitant speech was then interrupted by someone else's voice.

"Us Warhares," said the voice, "or rather the technicians for them."

"Uh..."

"Corporal Wanda Nash. Lead technician for the Warhare squadron of the 611st Joint Fighter Wing, not that the flyers would like acknowledging me with their squadron name. I assume you'd be the new guy everyone was talking about. Well, you're not the first guy who's stepped his foot inside this base, but I am curious how long will you be sticking here before something happens."

A Corporal like me, but from the flyers I suppose.

I briefly introduced myself like I did with Gurney. As we headed to our positions within the kitchen to start with our duties, I figured this would be a good time to know who I would be working with.

There seems to be an unspoken level of hierarchy, somewhat related to ranking and seniority, in this base. Freshmen like Gurney tend to be hazed a lot and get sent to do the menial tasks while the more senior ones will often grab the credits for catching the bigger fishes despite having the objectives brought by the recruits right before them so that they can just reach out with one hand to get it. According to her, there used to be other men in the base, but as I've been made to know earlier, they were all now gone – either by going missing, kicking the bucket or in some way or another, got themselves out from here.

Nash also noted that there were some really unruly officers in the base, most of which tend to be full-blown Witches – complete with cliques for the very influential ones.

As to what I think on all of these… This is pretty screwed up. The devil in me sings I'm in good company, but imagining I have to bear with this kind of environment sends shudders to my spine. No, definitely not the good kind of shudder.

What makes me wonder is why would Brig. Gen. Briggs turn a blind eye to all these.

"Speaking of which, Corporal, here's one of them."

"Hey there, ladies. Is lunch ready yet over all your chit-chatting?"

My head turned towards the source of the voice. Noticing my glance, she turned her head towards me, and our eyes met.

"Oh? You are… you must be the new guy the girls were talking about, aren't you?"

"Pleased to meet you. I'm-"

"Not interested. You'll be gone after a while anyway, just like the other guys did."

I knitted my eyebrows. Quite the quick assumption there, lady. Although I have to admit, now I'm getting really curious as to where I will be after a while here, too. What will it be? Still doing the yes-man jobs here like a slave, vaporized by a Neuroi, getting into trouble with anyone here that earns me a boot out of the camp, or me leaving my soldier life forever. Or any combination of all of these.

Nash, working next to me, whispered. "Major Harvey Macmillan, squadron leader of the Warhares. She's always been like that. She's been scanning you from top to bottom when she got into the mess hall, and that would be before she approached us. Probably wondering if you could be her new boy toy. They don't last long, though… and I don't mean in the bed."

I rolled my eyes over the last few bits. "Gee. Thanks for informing me, Corporal Wanda Nash," I whispered back, emphasizing some sarcasm in my tone.

"You're welcome," she replied.

The Major was getting impatient. "Talking smack about me when I'm right here? I heard that, you know. So, what are we having for lunch?"

"Rice and curry," Nash answered her.

"Again?"

"Where do you think we are, Major?"

"Look, I know this is somewhere near the Equator, despite all the Neuroi bullshit it's a strategic place for commerce therefore you tend to get lots of spices from the Indian Federation bu-"

"Major, I do not decide what gets to be on the menu. The Brigadier General supervises the daily menu herself."

"Tch," she clicked her tongue, and whispered to herself, "that bi-"

"That what now?"

A voice interrupted her from her behind.

"Gbhffh-!?"

It was the Brigadier General. "Having some problems with the KP staff here, Major?"

"N-no! No problems whatsoever."

"Then hurry up and take your lunch, you're holding the others up."

"Yes, yes…"

The Brigadier General turned towards me. "Corporal Jean, please come with me. I figure this is where I'll have your introductions in order."

"Yes, Miss."

As I walked out of the kitchen to follow the Brigadier General, Nash gave me several hand signals.

"Good luck, have fun with the introductions," was what she signaled. Surprising to know I could understand that, though.

– –

I was standing on a stage within the mess hall. I figure this is where performances were held when they have some pretty major events going on like some sort of annual dinner.

Standing in front of me was the Brigadier General.

I had to admit that this is getting me somewhat nervous, but who doesn't? I started scanning around the hall as the Brigadier General made her speech in an attempt to feel a bit calmer.

Let's see… On one corner there was the Major with a bored look on her face, but her eyes doesn't seem to leave me. Moving on… there's a particular one giving me some… suggestive stares. Wiggling eyebrows. That aside, I suppose I could start figuring things who am I locking my eyes with as a distraction… on the shoulders: Bright blue with two stripes near the end, each of them containing a white stripe placed in between two navy blue stripes… a Lieutenant. Name patch on her chest reads "Eden." So I suppose I am looking at a Lieutenant Eden here. Quite the firm build there, missy.

Moving on… the one next to the Lieutenant. I could not tell if she had one hell of a poker face as her everyday face or she's intently studying whatever the Lieutenant was pointing at. She had one more stripe of the same variety as the Lieutenant so I suppose she would be a Wing Commander… or was it Captain in the Witches' terms? Anyway her name patch reads "Urquhart." So this would be a Captain Urquhart.

I glanced back to the kitchen, without turning my head. That hamster (Gurney) was next to what I suppose her buddy looking on as they do their jobs, same goes to Nash. They look as if they are telling me to be safe… Well, I don't know if that was what they were thinking, but I have to say my thanks.

"So without further due I present to you Cpl. Jean 'Strike' Titor. Mr. Titor, if you would please come forward."

I was suspended from my self-distraction by the Brigadier General.

Now at the mic, I took a deep breath, and introduced myself, starting with the basics like name, rank and my previous affiliations and responsibilities.

And come the Q&A sessions, this would be where I suppose all kinds of questions pop out…

"Are you single or married?"

"You have a girlfriend?"

"Do you read Playboy?"

"Do you jerk off?"

… Figures.

"No, no, no and no. Either way it's a no," I bluntly shot these questions down. Even if I have any of these, that is my privacy.

"Way to go, Corporal, getting sexual harassment within a few seconds after introducing yourself," the Brigadier gave me a smirk. Well, why aren't you stopping them then? You are a Brigadier General, for God's sake. Is there a reason why you should let them say whatever?

I glanced back at the kitchen.

"God bless you," signalled Nash.

Yeah, right. Well, I suppose I better get this wrapped up nicely. I'm getting hungry for lunch too.

"As per usual introductions, I look forward towards working with you people, officers and fellow soldiers alike. … Professionally."

And with that, here be the beginnings of my days in this… curious base.

* * *

 **[ Insert Author's Notes Here ]** ←Intentional screwing around.

Hello readers, whoever you are, wherever you might be.

It has been a while since I actually wrote a piece under this account. My previous track record of writing were less than average in my books so I figure I should actually start cleaning up the ones I don't intend to keep anymore. If you look at my history, I tend to subscribe by these few modes of writing: "By the Seat of Your Pants" and "mood-based." As long as I can spit everything out into a word processor and can keep it going, I suppose I can get myself a story or two every now and then. I suck at planning because I tend to throw everything out once I finish outlining them, so I figure if I had something in mind I tend to go with "Let it happen as you write" mentality. But yeah, as long as I have the drive, I have the means.

Initially the Strike Witches universe was never looked at even as a bogey under my "radar of interesting things." But somehow someone managed to convince me it's not all cute girls, boobs and flat chests, and panties in Flying Nopants Land. As well as a certain doujinshi-ka introduced by the same someone which struck my radar in all the right places where I want it to be.

I started writing blind until along the way I figured out several themes and settings I could use, so I went along with whatever I had in mind. So it's safe to say I don't even know where I'm going with this… actually I do, but there are many roads to take. Dead end, one true path, many forks… I don't know what I'll come up with next before I get to the next checkpoint towards the goal. Maybe I could probably make it more systematic by actually writing them all down when I remember and throwing a die every time I need instant ideas?

Some of the characters' surnames except for our Corporal man, the 611st JFW as well as the 118th JMC all had explanatory notes I made for them which I will expand more as I write. Also figuring out the "611" and "118" actually had me playing some math tomfoolery with alphabets, I felt this was my first time resorting to such things and it kind of makes the worldbuilding feel more… interesting?

Either way, any longer and I would probably end up making a chapter-length author's notes so I don't want that. By the way if anyone is curious about how everyone looks like, considering I'm trying to build an original premise by borrowing the SW elements, I have some sketches but I have not put them up yet, or rather I have no idea where to put them. For the first few ones I have Jean, Harvey, Heather, Harley and Wanda up in my digital sketchbook. I'll get to the others once I feel I can start working on more to come up…. In which, for fear of the worst (a hanging story) I (and you) will have to pray that my interest keeps vested enough to continue. I have a bad track record with these so this time I'd like to fix that (at least better than before where I just kind of stop).

Also I have quite a big list of life responsibilities to keep up with so expect update to be on "whenever it happens." Nevertheless I'll count on the other certain writer to keep "brainwashing" me with motives to write even more so at least I'm not alone in trying to keep my motivation here up unlike what I've done up till now.


	2. Chapter 2

Usual disclaimer: I own nothing of the series, I am writing for fun.

* * *

Afternoon, some time after lunch hours. I was tasked to an instructor's role for unarmed combat training for some personnel. While I have no problems with unarmed combat, being an instructor is something I unfortunately lack experience in.

But then again this would probably help me stretch some while gauging some people here... though, yeah, right. I'm being tasked to instruct Witches for unarmed combat. Okay, I imagine there would be Witches who specialize in hammering away at Neuroi using magically-enhanced unarmed combat, but... just how many of them here do that?

"Corporal, unarmed combat training is essential in any armed forces around the world. We Witches are no exception to that. Imagine, a lone Witch on leave from the camp, visiting nearby towns. She gets robbed at gunpoint and she cannot use her magic. Oh, what will that poor girl do?"

... Yeah, that is a sound reason there, Miss Brigadier General. A great insight there, I reckon. Snorty snort.

Either way, it's almost time to start.

"Hey, new boy!"

Suddenly there was a voice behind me. Immediately, I turned towards the source to face it.

A familiar face from the crowd this afternoon. Though this would be the first time we talked to each other.

Dark brown hair with a short ponytail that reaches until her nape, a pretty firm build, I probably would not be mistaken if she's one of these 'physical Witches' I imagined.

"Um... Lieutenant Eden, I believe?" I replied.

"Name's Natasha, buddy," she said, and as she does so she slung an arm around my shoulders. "So you're the other instructor for today's unarmed combat drills, eh?"

"Yes."

One ice-breaking conversation and it's like she's greeting a close friend. Getting all chummy in record time, this is my first time meeting someone like this.

And then I felt a hand on my rear, roughly fondling it, and she leaned in a bit closer.

"Nice butt."

Wait, "nice butt?" What the hell do you mean?

Is that another kind of greeting? Skinship?

That gave me goosebumps, though.

"Ooh, someone's getting all jelly over her new boy toy getting touched, sorry there Harvey dear~"

I turned my head around towards the direction the Lieutenant is looking at, and there stands the Major.

Major Harvey Macmillan.

"Whose boy toy? Anyway why do I have to come for this training? I'm an air Witch, there's no way I'm getting touched, nor am I touching anything that I need such things!"

"Aww, you stubborn flight leader. After all the trouble this poor wingman of yours went through to ensure you get a proper training, you are still treating the routine like it had nothing to do with you~~"

"But of course! We fly all day in combat missions using our weapons and magic to engage the Neuroi and it was nothing. That Brigadier is just being silly! We don't need such a thing! Who the hell fights unarmed these days, even more so a Witch!?"

I was just listening, but I can feel my veins popping. This woman is underestimating the importance of unarmed combat expertise just because she is a Witch...

Miss Major, have you had any idea how naive that made you sound?

"Well, Miss Harvey, just so you know, today we're going to do sparring drills so it's best for you to follow along. Watching a sparring fight needs a lot of concentration so I believe you could learn to do some observation on how people fight."

Hearing this, the Major gulped. She seemed interested.

The Lieutenant then grabbed me by the shoulders.

"I've heard about your unarmed skills. I'd love to see it, and more importantly, let's give her a good show, all right? She needs to learn how to be good at watching how we move."

I took a deep breath, trying to quickly process their exchange just now.

It seems that despite being the leader of the Warhares unarmed combat is something the Major lacks skill in, if her interaction with the Lieutenant is to be believed.

And I gave my reply to the Lieutenant.

"Roger."

– –

The Lieutenant and I stepped into our combat stances, ready to go once the signal is given. I looked at the Lieutenant straight into the eyes, and I could sense the excitement that goes on through her mind, it feels like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey at once.

"Let'er rip!"

Soon we found ourselves quickly lunging towards each other, hands thrusting against each other's defences as we work them towards finding the other's openings. Even though this is a training drill, I can feel my adrenaline doing its work, and I figure it was the same for the Lieutenant.

We paused for a bit, and the Lieutenant shouted to the Major, "Did you see that!? This is what you call 'sparring'!"

"You were too fast you idiot! I cannot even catch onto your footwork and you're asking me to follow that in full!?"

I should probably say that along with us there were other trainees for this session watching our little duel. I can see Private Gurney inside there with her friend, watching us. So she also gets unarmed combat training, huh...

At the same time the other trainees were looking at the Major with various faces of amazement. Not that she will turn around to see these faces, though.

"Oh come on, we were just getting started. Or would you like to try yourself, Major?" The Lieutenant egged her on.

Not wanting to admit defeat, Major Macmillan stood up and briskly took her step forward.

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me, Natasha?"

"Well~~ aren't you being rather eager for a round yourself, Major?"

There were sparks flying... was there a short circuit somewhere?

"Either way, since you're raring to go, how about I present to you our boy right there?"

"Don't mess with me!"

"Aw, come on. This is just training, so let's get it on."

Pushing the Lieutenant aside, she quickly took her stance in front of me.

... Let's see. Not bad of a stance... for a beginner. What are you, Major, five?

The Lieutenant approached me again. "She likes it rough, but try to not be too rough, all right?" she said with a wink. Again, I took a deep breath...

"Let'er rip!"

Wait, what?

The Major moved fast on her feet, but reading into her footwork made it easy to predict what she was going for, so I shifted my weight a little bit and stopped an incoming right hook. That hook was still rough on the form, too. I'm starting to feel more of her lack in unarmed combat training.

But still, if she was properly trained she would've had the speed to knock the breath out of me before I could blink. That was close, and it made me hold my breath for a second.

"Whoa," I let my breath out. So much for the sucker punch she's trying to go for, eh?

"Tch."

... Uh oh, she's not happy with that block.

She took another swing. And another, and another, and another... And not a single hit.

More incoming swings, but the movements were becoming more and more predictable, and her movements are starting to slow down. She's gasping for air.

"Stop... dodging... you little...! Gah!"

She's more or less flailing around now. Oh well, I better give this a closure...

One more incoming swing, and I stopped it with one free hand. Another one and another hand stopping it. Then there was a kick coming but looking at her movements earlier she doesn't seem to be good at using her legs so that was stopped too. And thus I ended up locking her movements, with her struggling to break free from my grip.

I glanced over to the Lieutenant. "Err, Lieutenant...?"

"Just go ahead, Corporal, you're an instructor right now, yeah?"

Oh, right. I'm one of the instructors right now.

With one step, I loosened my grip on her arms a bit – going half a circle to her back from her right, taking her arms to her back, and repositioned my legs in order to stop hers from moving around, restricting them.

I'm now holding her in a lock, one arm around her neck while restraining hers, the other holding her other arm at her back.

"G-gah!"

"That, ladies, is a choke hold right here," the Lieutenant exclaimed towards the trainees.

"Ooh," so they went.

As she went on to explain on choke holds towards them, I felt a sudden burning sensation.

It was from Major Macmillan.

A second later, there was a sudden pressure from her back, forcing my grip off her limbs, undoing my lock. I was thrown backwards, and was knocked to a wall.

Lieutenant Eden turned her head to notice it happening.

"Ooof!"

"Jean!"

And then there was black.

– –

 _"God damn it, Major, didn't I tell you 'No Magic' while we're in this exercise!? What if it was a random civilian? You could've gotten him fried right there, you know! Just when we finally managed to get a good man for our routines, geez! I can't believe you!"_

 _"H-hey, why me? I'm feeling pretty choked there so all I did was get him out of the way, all right!?"_

 _"God! Why on Earth do I have to be with this snob as my superior AND flight leader!?"_

 _"Hey, hey! Watch it, Captain!"_

 _"... What happened here?"_

 _"Geh! C-Colonel!?"_

 _"... Colonel. It seems we have a lot to explain here, starting from the Major."_

 _"Selling me out to the Colonel so quickly!?"_

– –

 _"Please... pull the trigger, Mr. Guide..."_

 _"No, damn it! You're still breathing! We still can make it, hang in there!"_

 _"This... won't do. I'm being... taken over... I'll be no more when it's done. Please... for the sake of everyone...!"_

 _Things were getting desperate, and I still refuse to pull the trigger._

 _"No means no. Come on, you're a Witch! Surely you won't lose to such things!"_

 _And there was a chuckle._

 _A chuckle!? Hey, hey, you don't mean...!_

 _"He... hehe... I'm sorry, Mr. Guide, please... forgive me..."_

 _"Hey, hey, what are you doing...? Wait, no, no, no, no, NO, NO! STOP! STOP IT YOU IDIOT!"_

 _"Please... don't blame yourself for this. My friends, please... don't hate him for this, it was my last wish..."_

 _A gunshot echoes through the darkness of the rainforest. I felt sudden weight falling into my arms._

 _The one lying in my embrace is now no more. One more sacrifice of war, biting the dust._

 _"FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!"_

– –

"...aaaaAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

I sprang up.

I'm on a bed, the window's showing a sunset, and this space... I'm in the infirmary, I guess.

"That must've been an awful dream."

A new voice. Who is this? Upon a closer look, her name tag reads: "Gent."

"Corporal Jean Titor. You were rushed here from the hall the 611st and 118th were in, doing a joint training on unarmed combat. Cause of concussion: Physical trauma caused by burst magic from Major Harvey Macmillan during the session. Do you understand your current situation right now?"

"Uuuhh... well, my head still feels a bit fuzzy. I'll probably need a few moments before I can come to fully."

"All right, I understand that. But first can you tell me how many fingers am I putting up right now?"

I relaxed my vision a bit, and soon I felt like I'm truly back into this world. And she was holding up three.

"Three, um, Miss..."

"Colonel Esther S. Gent. Commanding officer of the 118th Joint Mechanized Corps as a whole, as well as head of the infirmary."

I raised my hand in salute. "Why, Colonel Gent it is. Pleased to work with you."

"Likewise," she returned the salute. "Mr. Titor, this would be your first day in this base of joint operations between the 611st Joint Fighter Wing and the 118th Joint Mechanized Corps but from the looks of it, it must have been quite an eventful one. I just hope that you could keep up with... the shenanigans everyone in base comes up with. And take care of your well-being at that. I'd be sad to see yet another man go, especially because personnel healthcare is one of my responsibilities here. As well as how harsh they get treated here, not to mention these days career advancement options for the male recruits are pretty limited."

"Figures."

Actually getting assigned here and making it up to this point alive feels pretty lucky for me, I might say.

"Miss, if I may ask," I slowly began, "about some people I met today? I think I've gotten myself some up close first encounters with some of them, and considering this base is pretty... peculiar, I'd like to have a good idea who am I looking at."

"Fire away," she said, unhesitatingly. "Name them and I'll give you some pointers that will... probably help with improving your communication with them."

"The Brigadier General first, please."

"Ah, Brigadier General Harley Briggs. I believe she didn't mention this to you, but she leads the 611st as a whole. I was her contact during her campaign in this country against the Neuroi, and so I was the one who answered her call for assistance. The Commonwealth agreed towards a combined air and ground unit for the ongoing campaign against the Neuroi hidden in this country's vast rainforest areas, so we gathered everyone and established this camp. The rest is history."

"Thanks for the information but what about the person? Like why would she overlook some things happening in the base?"

"That... I would believe she knows better to answer this, Corporal. Sometimes even I don't understand what she is thinking."

I scratched my head over that reply. If it would have been so easy to ask I would've done that, but with a Brigadier like that I would rather keep it to myself.

"Oookay, next, Major Macmillan I suppose."

"Major Harvey Macmillan. Rising into her current rank rather quickly as a graduate from the academy, she is quite one kind of an ace. She is able to power through several swarms of Neuroi single-handedly, and has won many air battles for the LAAF's branch of Witches with successful sorties one after the other. However with that kind of achievement also comes a big hubris, I reckon. The reason why she was here, was all thanks to her being too trigger happy with the lower-ranked male recruits back in Liberion."

So the Major was a Liberian. I suppose her wingmates are too, since they make up part of the squadron she's flying for. Having to be kicked out from Liberion as a detachment for the Britannian Witches for such an offense is quite the punishment to give her.

"You mean something like bullying?"

"That and harassment... and some other offences I would rather have you be spared of the details. That one particular incident had several men being booted out of the military and she was punished to be assigned to this place. But that got her treatment of the men here even worse. I already reprimanded her this afternoon for what she had done to you, but chances are she's not going to be repentant about it. Whatever you do, Corporal, please take care around her."

Well, I sure have to take care of myself as to not try to strangle a superior officer over what happened in the afternoon with them, Witch magic tomfoolery be damned. As what I've told the Brigadier with my own mouth, I love my current career too much to leave.

"But please do reconcile later... Anyone else that sparks your interest?"

"I would not rather say 'interest' per se, Colonel... more like the 'I need to know who they are' instinct. Next I'd like you to tell me about Corporal Wanda Nash and Private Heather Gurney."

"Corporal Wanda Nash... lead of the ground technician teams for the 611st's Warhares... in other words, the squadron Major Macmillan leads. Originally she was friends with the Major, but they had a fallout later, partly thanks to the Major's behaviour. As a technician she is very good with her responsibilities, she actually has the qualifications to be granted a Striker Unit along with her own squadron but for some reason she has been repeatedly denied promotions that would have landed her all that."

"I smell disillusionment here... or maybe she likes her technician job better, she looks to be the type doing that."

"You're not mistaken. And Private Heather Gurney... one of the latest batch of recruits assigned under my command. She is currently an engineer for the frontlining Witches. She has a Striker Unit herself, however it is a support unit rather than a frontline fighting machine. She has potential however, and I believe you asked about her just at the right time, Corporal."

'Just at the right time?' What does that mean?

"Just at the right time...?"

"She and her batch of fellow recruits had a hard time fitting into this camp... and I was lacking personnel to become their instructor for an experimental combat manoeuvrer we were planning, and they will spearhead its implementation if it is successful."

"Experimental combat manoeuvrer?"

"Witches with combat tracking experience in locations such as rainforests in this country isn't something most countries with a sizeable number of Witch-based forces have. While this country is blessed with excellent combat trackers like you, it unfortunately is still a country that just became independent from the Commonwealth of Britannia – which is us – and so it is woefully equipped for countering the Neuroi threat."

I nodded. The country was still fresh out of the Declaration of Independence. But then again there were some pretty accomplished Witches out there who could pretty much help in building a sizable Witch force out of the locals to help combat the threat...

"It also doesn't really help when one of the reasons cited by the local government over not having homegrown Witches is because Witches by themselves is an existence that stands against the core values and beliefs of their people, therefore they would not want to risk inciting vehement mass persecution of potential Witches by the common folk."

That certainly makes sense. Personally, the one issue I have with Witches was that they were taking away the value of male personnel in the armed forces due to how Witches were always women, and were the only ones who can deal with Neuroi threats all over the world. But beyond that I cannot really care less. The local people however have more issues they would care about than thinking of it in the same way I do, and it might as well incite a witch hunt en masse had local Witches exist. These are people who would rather care about feeling their customs, traditions, and beliefs were challenged than the fact that the Neuroi seeks to destroy them from deep within their own soil.

"They are, at least, willing to cooperate for the sake of the safety of their fledgling country, though. Corporal, we felt actually lucky to receive you into our units, because we sorely needed an expert in combat tracking for the recruits' training to take off. Contrary to what the girls in the air might say, bombing and strafing the suspected Neuroi locations did little to slow their advance. Also the locals are starting to complain that the airborne Witches are doing too much damage to their native flora and fauna as well as accidentally bombing some aboriginal settlements, therefore we need more precision in our modus operandi – and since before we can destroy any Neuroi hidden in the forests, we need to locate them – and this is where we need to properly raise our girls for it."

I sighed. That was some pretty lengthy explanation to it, but I can see where this is going.

"So in other words, does this mean I am to lead Private Heather Gurney's team and be their instructor on combat tracking drills?"

Despite a generally stern-looking face, she beamed with a smile. Well, I might have been saying the obvious since it seemed she wanted someone for the instructor's job when she started talking.

"Precisely," she said.

And then I remembered something else.

"Okay, Colonel, thank you for the explanations, but I still need to know one thing – How is Gurney as a person?"

A moment of silence.

"A recruit who is full of potentials, but lacks the courage to bring them all out. I expect that building her character will be part of the instructor's responsibility – and by that I mean you, Corporal. Though, when properly approached she is a kind young girl at heart, and I believe you are now a new addition to her list of 'friendly people to talk to' in her mental register after today's few encounters you have – from the toilet down there, to KP, and then during the afternoon unarmed combat training," she said, taking a deep breath.

So she was the one who was watching my exchange with Gurney and her fellow privates this morning...

She placed a hand on my shoulder. "Please take care of her well."

– –

I was getting late to prepare for dinnertime, and I came across one more trouble of the first day in everywhere.

Namely, where would my bunk be?

Fortunately, someone came to my rescue… or maybe not. Of all people, it had to be Nash. Oh well, better her than probably the Major, the Lieutenant, and I doubt Gurney would have the authority to show me where my bunk is. I'd love it if the Colonel would help, but let's not bother her for now. And the Brigadier General… ah, forget it. These two are the honchos of this camp anyway, they have other things to do than tell me where my bunk's at… Come to think of it, the Brigadier didn't even bother telling me where I am supposed to sleep when I arrived this morning.

"Eh… What's up, doc?" she chirped, trying to do her best impression of Bugs Bunny.

"Looking for a bed. Or is it because this is a primarily Witch camp so there would be Witches everywhere, I have to camp out in the field for my nights?"

Nash just returned me a raised eyebrow and a smirk, before bursting into a chuckle. She thought I must have been trying to be really funny. Well, I wish I was being funny, but I can't really be bothered to get mopey about things I have to go through either.

"Oh, what the hell… Of course we do have a place for the boys, Titor. Just… well, follow me after dinner. For now let's chow down on tonight's menu."

As we're about to take our first spoon of dinner, three figures approach us.

Major Macmillan, Lieutenant Eden, and… Captain Urquhart.

Wait, wait, wait, wait. They are commissioned officers! I thought these people have their own rows, why weren't they sitting there? Either way I smell trouble, the Major's making a face I cannot really tell if she was being grumpy or not giving a single damn about life in general.

To my right sat the Major, to my left the Lieutenant. The Captain sits across the table, next to Nash.

… That made for quite an awkward dinner.

To which Nash broke the awkward silence between us.

"Major, miss, may I ask a question?"

Major Macmillan didn't answer her. It was as if she was not listening at all. But Nash followed up with her next sentence.

"This is the mess hall row for NCOs, and as far as things are concerned, you commissioned officers eat over there," she said, pointing towards a location to the right of my shoulder and way far behind my back, "so pray tell what brings you here?"

The Lieutenant opened up first.

"Well… y'see, we have quite one hell of an apology to do. Come on, Major, say it."

But the Major didn't seem to be cooperative, turning her head aside. I did hear a slowly murmured "Sorry" though.

Captain Urquhart returned her a sharp glare. "Come on, apologize. Be professional, you are a Major for God's sake."

I glanced towards her. "Uh," I spoke up, trying to find the right words to greet yet another officer I've encountered this day.

"Captain Leilah Urquhart, 611st Joint Fighter Wing, flying with the Warhares. Pleased to make your acquaintance and a pleasure to work with you, Corporal Jean Titor. Also I'm terribly sorry for this afternoon's incident on my flight leader's behalf."

I let out a low sigh. "It's all right, Ma—er, Miss," I began, "I tend to be thrashed around a lot, I suppose it's part of the job's description when I first signed up for my days as a Private."

"One thing I can assure you, Corporal, is that nobody in this camp, more so a Witch, doing the trashing while being under your tutelage is supposed to be within the definition of that description," the Captain asserted. "When under training for a certain syllabus, instructors outrank trainees. There's a reason we call NCOs for basic combat training like we did this afternoon with you, because you people have field experience. A-anyway! Come on, Harvey! Say it!"

After much pestering by the Captain, the Major finally gave in.

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry."

"No points for that halfhearted apology, Major. Try again."

Oh well. I'm already past that. Time to play nice guy for now I guess.

"It's okay. In the first place it was kind of my fault, I kind of used too much force on her, so I figure that choke hold kind of triggered her fight or flight response and that was what I got for not being… uh, a bit gentler."

Lieutenant Eden made the same eyebrow wriggling I saw her doing this afternoon. And then I have yet another hand on my rear.

"Wooo, putting on the moves already aren't ya."

"Miss Eden, with all due respect, that gesture is making me feel… _very uncomfortable._ "

"Hey, hey, I thought you like this because you're a guy?"

"Just because I am a man does not make me accepting to all forms of gestures, solicited or not… Also er, Major, miss, may I ask… where is that left hand of yours going…?"

As the Lieutenant took a cop of my rear, I noticed another hand was going for my front. It was from my right-hand side, and to it was the Major. I could see her hand extended towards it.

Captain Urquhart didn't catch on to what the Major was doing for some reason. She was raising an eyebrow. … Maybe she did notice, but somehow did not know what to do with it. Either way from her eyes I can pretty much sum up what we were thinking: raising an alarm would spell immediate trouble for all of us on this table.

Major, stop playing pretend like you didn't do it when it's very obvious to me.

I turned towards Nash, who was showing a face that tells me 'Hot damn you now look like a girl with guys on all her sides.' Except have the sexes reversed.

Save me, Nash! Get me out of here in some way or another! … Or that was what my face was making towards her.

She then stood up with her food tray.

"If you may please excuse us, everyone, I have been tasked to show Corporal Jean Titor to his bunk," she said. "This base might be filled with Witches everywhere but we still have accommodation for male personnel where we need them to be. Mr. Titor, please follow me."

I quickly stood up, following her. The Lieutenant was kind enough to let go, but I had to push the Major's hand away. It seemed like she wanted to go for my family jewels. No, no, I cannot have that happen. She was grabbing the front real hard, too, I'll probably roll on the floor frothing if she decided to make it very painful for me.

As I followed Nash my mind immediately went into trying to recall the damn big book of rules and look for my rights to justice.

– –

We're in a corridor leading to the bunks, and for some reason Nash still hasn't wiped the smirk off her face, and she was silently giggling while looking at me. Yeah, yeah, those shenanigans during our time at the dining table was really funny to you, eh?

"What's so funny?"

"Nah, nothing really. It's your first day here and you got yourself spiked by the Warhares. The Lieutenant seems to have taken a liking to you, the Captain looked like she never saw a man before and was trying to play it cool with you, while the Major… pffffft."

"If we reverse the situation, it's not going to be so funny now isn't it? Speaking of the Major, I heard that you used to be friends with her. Then… yeah. What happened?"

"It's… one kind of a long story. Who told you about it?"

"The Colonel."

"Man, it's just your first day and you keep bumping into some pretty big people."

"I also tend to brush some off the wrong way with the smallest things ever, if my last wrongdoing which ended up sending me here is to be believed."

"At first I thought they were joking when they said you were sent here over a ruined flower patch. Either way, yeah… at first we were really good friends. Then she was selected for an ace fighter program for Witches and got selected to fly with the best stuff Liberion can strap on her. Her kill records are pretty impressive too, that's why she's now a Major."

"What about you then? Weren't you at least on par with her, if I can trust the Colonel's words?"

She paused to look at me, then looks away with a smile and a sigh.

"As if I can be bothered to fly around with that stuck-up of a Witch."

So she really did have issues with the Major back then…

"Listen, Titor, while she has some pretty serious talent, I'm just someone who works really hard. You imagine two people, one with already a silver platter put in front of them while someone else has to really dig hard for that silver platter? She's unfortunately too absorbed with how her talent can land her everything she wants to work for her while undermining the value of effort. That includes landing herself boys to toy around with. And then we come to her current status. If she decides to 'eat' you in that sense, you wouldn't be the first boy she has 'eaten'. So this is why you should take care around her despite her rank against yours and her status as a flying ace, albeit a pretty stain-smeared one. The Brigadier General just won't even touch her about it."

"That's quite a lot of spite for someone who used to be your best buddy," I said. "How about you then? I figure you would be able to be a full-fledged airborne Witch than just spending your time down on the ground. Though you probably love your current job."

She turned towards me, two index fingers pointing at me, a wink and a tongue out. "Bingo!" she exclaimed. "Workin' the Striker Units is a good job, mate. It's challengin' werk, indoors and outdoors… I guarantee yah will not go hungry," she said, in a sudden fake Australian accent… "'Cause at the end of da day, as long as there's tha Neuroi blokes, someone's gonna want Witches up in the air."

That got a good chuckle out of me. "What's that, a mimicry of a cartoon character or something?"

"Kind of."

As we continued forward to the end of the corridor, we came upon a door.

"We're here," she said, opening a door. Rubbing her hand in the dark for a switch, her fingers find her ways to one and flipped it on.

"There you go, though this is supposed to be shared with your fellow boys, unfortunately none exist – for now. A whole small dorm for you boys, but for now you're going to have it all to yourself! Ain't that awesome?"

"Just so we are clear, there were no other guys here, right? … Man, this is quite one hell of a luxury I'm having since day one of my army life."

The boys' dorm were surprisingly well-maintained… Perhaps it was to keep the next guy from running away once the previous one ran away due to the pressure. Let's see… bathroom with space for five people, a pretty stocked pantry, and a recreation room with barely touched equipment… I figure living conditions were never an issue if I have to investigate why this base is so devoid of men.

And I'm having to have all of these, solo. Well, I guess things are going to get lonely. And by lonely I need another buddy who's not a girl. … How's that guy holding up in Fuso nowadays, I wonder? Last I heard he enlisted under Commander Hijikata, who was himself a Petty Officer during the last Neuroi War.

"Well then, I guess you're liking it, so I'll take my leave, all right?" Nash chirped from the door. "We got an early morning to rise to tomorrow, and it's gonna be a day down the shooting range first thing for you as one of the instructors. Also I heard you're going to take care of Private Gurney and her bunch of happy friends, so take care of that hamster, all right? She seriously need a teacher to tell her left from her right."

"Wilco," I said dryly, now that I'm caring more about unpacking and unwinding real fast before I go to bed.

And so my eventful first day came to an end.

– –

" _Aw nuts… I forgot to tell him that now he's the new man in the base, outside his dorm will be a number of 'predators' waiting to break in. I hope you're someone with a quick reaction time even when asleep, God bless you for the nights."_

* * *

 **[ Insert Author's Notes Here ]**

Hello again. So a Chapter 2! For how long will this go on until I ran out of total interest to write this is still beyond me, but I suspect it's not going to be long until I have to end it out of self-obligation risen from loss of interest. For now I'm in holiday mode but I'll be returning to life business after two weeks from now. So I suppose I'll burn through whatever I have in mind to write down until that time comes.

And honestly I still don't know what or why am I writing this… maybe.

Time to get started on a sketch of the Colonel, the Lieutenant and the Captain next, I suppose.

Well then, time to take a break for the week – not that this is confirming whether I'll write weekly or not. Like I said previously, when it gets done, it gets done.


	3. Chapter 3

Usual disclaimer: "For fun, etc., blah blah blah. I don't own the original IP."

* * *

Today I found myself waking up earlier than usual. I would rather let myself lie down for a bit longer until the one going around knocking doors and shouting the usual wake up order get here, but something caught my attention the first moment I opened my eyes.

I felt like there were disturbances that went on while I was asleep. The first thing I noticed was the sudden curious state of my locker. I would pass it off as having a loose door and my clothes spilling out causing it to open, but as far as I can remember the locker was all good and I kept my clothes inside there neatly folded, ready to be worn anytime.

... This cannot be a good sign.

I hurried over to my locker and began inspecting it.

Looks like I lost some of my underwear.

And then there was knocking on the door...

"Wake up, wake up- oh, you're already up... What are you doing there?"

The one person tasked for the wake-up calls.

"Uh, thanks for the wake-up call, but I am already up and searching for a lost item."

The figure sighed. "Hurry up, Corporal. The roll call is going to be up in an hour, and you're going to check on your squad later."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll be there in a few."

The door closed.

– –

"At ease!" I screamed out my next command.

Let's see who's here... Yep, it's Gurney's unit all right. And the other faces I also saw yesterday when we were cleaning up that one toilet. Talk about fate... Some day someone is going to have a good laugh with this.

Back to the roll call... It seems I am met with a rather lethargic unit today. One of them have the audacity to have their eyes still shut from the moment they woke up, I have to commend on their ability to sleep while being in line and moving around. Like that.

... Right, so let's see how I could push them to be a bit more awake. We're in a roll call right now, and there's the morning briefing by the Brigadier soon.

Gurney herself looked like she was barely keeping herself awake and she was in front of the line... with her fellow squadmates looking the same. It was at this moment something clicked into my mind.

Here goes.

"Pssst. Rise and shine, ladies~"

I went close to her face and whispered into her ear using the best 'pretty boy voice' I could muster. This brought her to a jolt, snapping her head upwards to face forward. And, as if a row of dominoes were toppling down, her head knocked the one behind her, and the one behind her jolted their head upwards knocking the one behind them, and so on.

Of course, the other squads in line were looking at us, and were trying to hold back from bursting into laughter en masse.

From barely keeping herself awake Pvt. Heather Gurney is now wide awake, her face red out of embarassment.

– –

The shooting range.

A place I'd figure the best way to describe it as a "place of peace and tranquility as you send lead down the range."

I just _loooove_ marksmanship practice. No, really. If the thing called 'shooting practice' existed as a woman, I would marry her right away and do her for life.

Jokes aside, I figure it's the next best thing to do now that I am basically waiting for some recruits to arrive for their marksmanship training with me as their instructor.

Of course, it will be Gurney's group, and they were currently going through their briefing with another officer before I take the reins.

While they're at it, I'm right here looking down the sights of my rifle.

The Lee-Enfield, built with precision shooting in mind with the heavy barrel and a telescopic sight, but I had it off the gun today for practice. This was Australis-made, though.

You thought with the war against the Neuroi, they would be concentrating on developing and improving more equipment for the Witches.

Well, while that's certainly the case from the Great War till now, development and maintenance of the common military also progressed, and from time to time there had been quite some studies made in hopes of getting a common front-line soldier's fighting capabilities on par with a Witch. There was one ambitious Air Chief Marshall Maloney and his Warlock project, however due to a disastrous incident that involved direct intervention from the 501st JFW the project was suspended and discredited.

… I thought that was a pretty crazy story, though.

Nowadays the average common soldier have better chances of survival in encounters against the Neuroi, but not really "on par" with a Witch like the top brass would've liked.

Asking a common Private to fire a rifle over long distances with enough accuracy and firepower to pierce Neuroi armor isn't going to do it compared with asking the same to a Witch. Because, hey, magic.

… And one more bullet finds its mark… or close enough. Well, that was a pretty tight grouping… I love this gun.

"… Corporal, sir…?"

I pulled the bolt and chambered another round, ready to let loose.

"… Sir…?"

Steady, steady…

"… Um…"

My trigger finger twitched as I slowly adjusted my sights to get my firing solution.

And that's when a finger touched my sides.

"G—fuhgggfff!?"

With gusto, I got back up from my prone position, and assumed a defensive stance. An enemy right here in the base? … Wait, no.

Right before my eyes was the figure of Private Gurney on the ground. I took a second to process what happened during the interval of my reaction. … Whoops, stupid reflex.

"Er… Gurney," I said, "Uh… well, excuse me for the overreaction. I, uh, got myself a bit too lost within my own world there."

Extending my hand towards here, I offered her help getting up. "Upsies?"

Still looking dazed, she slowly extended her hand, and with a yank I pulled her up. "Did that hurt?"

"Um, no… also I'm sorry… for disturbing…"

"Uh, no. My bad too, I wasn't even paying attention to the fact that you guys were here and that you were trying to catch my attention."

I scanned around the newly-arrived group of recruits following her.

"So, ehem. Marksmanship training, huh… I guess Witches do need their fair share of it too."

– –

After a little briefing on the training and telling them to start taking their positions and firing away at the range, I called them out for a break.

Once in a while I probably have to show them something nice to keep them motivated for the day, I guess.

Instructing the recruits to sit in a half circle formation, I sat before them and took out a somewhat large piece of paper.

"All right," I breathed. "Do you know what this is?"

I waved the large piece of paper in front of them.

The recruits stared intensely, trying to decipher my intent. _What is he doing, showing us this? It's clearly a_ _shooting_ _target, but what's so special about it?_ … I could feel all these thoughts coming from their faces.

This 'paper' was no ordinary 'paper.' It is the standard shooting target used in a certain kind of event in the Britannian army, originated from a shooting exercise used to grade prospect marksmen. Excellent shooters from these exercises were to be known as first-class shots.

The point of the exercise was to train marksmen in rapid precision shooting during the years that eventually led to the First Neuroi War. Though the ordinary firearm held by normal marksmen proved useless against the Neuroi, it nevertheless helped them to maintain a good, precise sustained rate of fire for their time.

Nowadays automatic firearms are fast replacing bolt action rifles as a military standard, though in the hands of a skilled sniper the bolt action rifle still has a place for precision firing. Such was the case for my Lee-Enfield.

"This big piece of paper is the 'Second Class Figure' target. I'll ask, who among you have heard about the 'Mad Minute'?"

The recruits looked at each other. Some shrugged, others scratched their heads.

One person slowly raised theirs.

Pvt. Heather Gurney.

"Gurney," I said. "Care to share what you knew of it with us?"

I gestured to Gurney for her to start explaining what a Mad Minute is. Meekly, she began speaking, but as soon as she started picking up on her explanation her tone somehow turned increasingly enthusiastic.

The Mad Minute, name of the exercise. Not really an actual name for the exercise, it's just what people seem to call it over time. Originally practiced by the Britannian army, this exercise was originally called 'Practice Number 22' in the instructors' manual.

The description: _Lying. Rifle to be loaded and 4 rounds in the magazine before the target appears. Loading from the pouch or bandolier by 5 rounds afterwards. One minute allowed._

In this exercise, the shooter was to fire 15 rounds of ammunition at a 'Second-class Figure' target 300 yards away. Following the exercise, the shooter was to be graded according to their performance during this exercise.

This exercise also helped highlight one of the Lee-Enfield's strong points: its smooth bolt action that lets one quickly chamber a round less than a second after firing.

Thought it was an old marskmanship exercise, in recent days modern marksmen have taken up interest in the activity as sport, and the exercise changed into something along the lines of 'fire as many accurate shots you can with a bolt-action rifle within one minute.'

There's an actual sport that is based on rapid-firing firearms like these in Baltland, called stangskyting, but that isn't the point I am trying to bring across here.

As I watched on Gurney explaining what a Mad Minute is with a surprising surge of vigor as she went on doing it, I realized something.

She was pretty on point about it. Probably reads a lot about it, too.

Interesting.

Realizing she had been going on explaining the entire thing without a pause and her teammates giving her an amazed look, she suddenly stopped. Probably came back to her senses and felt embarrassed about it.

"All right, thanks for the explanation, Gurney. You sure did a lot of your homework didn't you?" I said, teasing her a bit. Her ears went red from it. Don't worry, Private, I love me an FNG who knows what they're talking about more than a god damn general who puts up airs as if they are some kind of of an all-knowing deity.

I then hoisted my rifle up to my chest level for the girls to see.

"This," I started, "is a Lee-Enfield. There are many like it, but this one is mine. Let me tell you one thing: I love this gun. Not because it's designed to kill things, but the craftsmanship on this thing is amazing. You might wonder why am I going out of my way to tell you this when automatic rifles are becoming standard-issue, so I'll explain. This is a marksman's friend, and I'll demonstrate why it is so."

I pointed to a target somewhere in the distance. "See that?" I said again, "That would be a hundred yards from where we are right now. I'll be hitting it as fast as I can with as many bullets as I have within one minute. Automatic rifles will be able to pull this off without a hitch, but for now I want you to see how you could pull it off with just a bolt-action rifle like this one."

I took up my position on the ground, laying prone; and threw a stopwatch at Gurney.

"Private Heather Gurney, be my timer. I will start firing at your count of three and you're to start the watch at the same time, and stop after one minute. Understood?"

Nervously, she nodded.

As I took my aim, she started her count.

One…

Two…

… Three!

The stopwatch started ticking and I pulled the trigger, firing the first round. Not wasting any fraction of a second, I pulled on the bolt and chambered another round, and pulled the trigger again. One more round, one more shot. Rinse and repeat.

Ejecting the last of the expended cartridge from the rifle, I reached for the next clip and loaded it into the magazine.

Aim, fire, chamber the next round, reload, rinse and repeat.

"Ah!"

I stopped firing on her exclamation. Looks like she barely missed the one-minute mark I told her to keep watch on.

"H-halt your fire… ah…"

"I guess we're done over here?"

A deep red blush.

"How many shots did I manage?" I asked her.

"Eh?"

"You were counting, right? How many shots did I manage?"

The Witch paused. Trying hard to recall the counts she had made on my behalf, she started going into a sequence of finger arithmetics.

"T-twenty… six…"

"Twenty-six shots, then. Hmm, good, good. My fingers are still good despite the lack of practice lately, phew. Though there's this friend of mine who got sent to Britannia. Guy's a really good shot, though I hear he's being bullied everyday there by a certain flight instructor from Suomus."

Apparently that guy over there is complaining about that instructor because she says his reactions on failing to get a hit on her is cute.

Heh. _Cute._ What with his lack of growth and the babyface and all, but that's not just it.

Well, I don't know, but you have to be grateful that _that_ instructor is calling you _cute_ at all. It's also pretty funny she's going out of her way to tease you about your shooting skills, challenge you to get a hit on her just to see you fail and react to that. She's the legendary "Elusive Instructor" after all.

As I was indulging in a brief moment of memory about that good old buddy, I was rudely snapped back to reality by the sound of roaring jets.

It's the fliers, and they're flying low. Hey, what's the big deal?

"It's… it's the Warhares…"

I heard one of the voices from the squad.

And we were again shook by a loud sound. This time it's the sound of something whirring… followed by the roar of rapid gunfire.

I slowly turned around to where the gunfire landed their shells on.

The target I had been shooting as a demonstration of a Mad Minute to these recruits… had been completely flattened.

"What the…"

One of the fliers hovered towards me.

It was the Major. Holding a pretty big gun. … Isn't that a little too big? Then again I've heard Witches carrying large weapons like it was nothing so I probably shouldn't be amazed. Yet again… it's a goddamn Minigun.

Damn, so she's like the heavyweight shooter for the fliers? No wonder she has an impressive kill record.

"Major Harvey Macmillan," I said blankly, offering a salute with the same attitude, "may I know what brings you down here today? We are having shooting exercise today, were we perhaps scheduled for a joint practice with your squadron that I somehow forgot?"

My fake pleasantries were met with a blunt "Hmph." Guess she knew I wasn't really intending to greet her with proper respect.

"… Automatic weapons are the stuff nowadays and you're still teaching them the old bolt action rifles?" she said with a sneer.

Well, I know that, but I wasn't really teaching them per se.

Putting on my best 'corporate smile" I replied;

"Major, I understood that the current standard issue personnel weapon for the squad is an automatic rifle. What I was doing was merely imparting some encyclopedic information about this rifle in my hands including what I could do with it."

"What kind of unit did you come from to be still holding on to that relic?"

"With due respect," I can't believe I'm saying this cliché phrase again, "if it is still functioning in perfect working order and issued to soldiers like me it isn't a relic… yet. At least not for this one in my hands. Besides, there are a few army units stationed in this country issued with the same firearms… Miss."

"Oh, right. You're from the native unit. Using hand-me-downs from the big Britannian list of retirees who can't even get a single dent on Neuroi for the entire duration of their service time."

Now isn't she just being rude to our predecessors… Who on Earth decided it was okay to let her into the Liberion military training programme for Witches in the first place?

"Well, sometimes if a hand-me-down is still working as good as they had been in our predecessors' hands, learning how to use it as well as they did would be important, right? I believe learning all about what you can do with your tools is an essential skill to not just us in the military, but to every human living out there, Miss," I said.

Somehow her smug face had gotten even more full of it.

Goodness, I cannot believe this woman, who's supposed to be a commissioned officer several steps above my enlisted rank.

"So," she bellowed, "you're talking about skill, huh?"

Such a concentration of her haughtiness is simply astounding to behold.

"Despite being an instructor, you haven't even lived for seventy-two hours in this base yet. I'll admit your unarmed combat skills were quite something. But seeing you feel so confident with your trusty rifle, I would love to evaluate your skills with it for myself – using my own way. With my authority against you of the enlisted, you will obey me for this. Not that I'm giving you any other options either. Hah."

Oh? Interesting. She wants to test me right here?

"How will I be evaluated in your methods, Miss?"

She let out a very condescending grin.

"You're going to get a hit on me while I simulate strafing runs against you. Yes, you heard that right, I'm going to strafe you and you're to defend yourself from me. Using that rifle. And I'll be on afterburners for a high-speed low pass. Basically I'll be doing all I can to not let you hit me at all. You get a hit in and you're good to go. Fail that… see you in the infirmary. Don't worry, I won't kill you. I don't kill boys."

… A high-stakes turkey shoot?

Talk about being unreasonable. You're a Witch in a Striker Unit. It's like being told to shoot down a speeding railway train coming to your face using this gun! Even I know that's too much of a fantasy to ask for. So just coming at me in high speed is not enough for you, you're even going on afterburners? That's Mach speed we're talking about here. Saying 'I won't kill you' is a hypocrisy in itself with that kind of speed!

"I'm sorry, Miss… but that method of evaluation is a bit…"

"What's that? Already losing your balls over the thought of it? Maybe you could have gone back to your bunk and weep about your lack of balls."

… Now that's just plain asking for divine retribution there.

The Witches following her snickered at me. The Captain and the Lieutenant weren't with her group, though, I guess they're leading their own flight.

I let out a sigh.

"Acknowledged, Miss," I breathed. "Corporal Jean Titor, accepting the task of intercepting an incoming, strafing airborne hostile."

Filled with smug satisfaction, she replied, "Good."

With that said, she flew off into the distance, gaining altitude.

… And descended as quickly as she went up.

"Whoa!"

I was sent rolling backwards from the wake of her zooming past me.

"Too slow. If this was a Neuroi attacking you'd be a goner!"

That was a sucker blow, damn it. But damn was she right.

Swooping down for yet another strafe, I quickly took aim with my rifle.

Gurney and the rest of the recruits looked on helplessly, while the fliers following Macmillan watched her movements in awe, not minding the fact that she's coming down on a mortal human unable to withstand the flight speed Witches take no sweat in flying with.

But I didn't make my aim in time.

I was sent down to the ground again, not being given a chance to react at all.

… Screw it.

If she's not even giving me a chance to get up, might as well I stay down while aiming.

Laying on my back, I raised my rifle once more.

She's getting closer.

Hold…

Closer.

Hold… and.

"Bang."

I muttered with a wink.

Though since this was a simulation, the actual shot did not happen.

Even though she was coming hot, I could notice the slight flinch she had.

What I failed to notice however, what was going to follow that…

 ** _CRASH._**

… Oh no.

"The Major crashed!"

"Did the Corporal really opened live fire on her!?"

"Oh my God!"

Both the fliers and the ground Witches were looking at the scene with pure shock and horror.

Please don't let this be my fault. Live, you Witch! Despite being such a bitch you're a Major for a good reason, even I can see that!

I rushed to the spot where she crashed, trying to find her within the smokes. And then I heard coughing.

"Cough, cough… damn it…"

The smokes cleared, and from within it the visage of the Major appeared. Mostly unhurt, but unable to move due to her Striker unit losing power.

Everyone immediately drew a sigh of relief.

… And the fliers immediately turned to me with a disapproving glare, while Gurney and her fellow recruits continued with the same expression of helplessness.

"Harvey! Are you all right down there!?"

"… What do you think you're looking at? Of course I am."

Two more Witches arrived at the scene… Lieutenant Eden and Captain Urquhart.

"Good thing you managed to stop the impact from affecting you with the shield. That was a pretty terrible crash. Seriously… even I am not that crazy to run after a guy down here in afterburners like that."

"What the hell were you even thinking in the first place!?"

"… I was testing him. He looked so confident with his rifle, so I was… kinda. Y'know. Reminding him that autos are all the rage."

The Captain turned her head towards me.

"Y-you shot her?"

I shrugged. "Verbally, I suppose?"

And then came Macmillan's voice. "… You bastard…"

Oh no, you're not going to accuse me of actually firing a live round into your face now, are you?

"That… that gesture was really unnecessary."

"… What?"

"That wink, damn it! And that 'bang!' Thanks for taking away my concentration, stupid! Do you know how hard it was to keep swooping down on you on afterburners without accidentally knocking you into pieces!?"

And then there was this awkward silence… broken by the Lieutenant and the Captain later.

"Sigh… for all the trouble you caused, it's not just the Corporal you're going to owe apologies for this time… good grief."

"Our Flight Lead is a handful one, eh Corporal?"

Seriously, I kind of had to appreciate her ridiculousness. Because, hey, it's not often you get a CO you can actually ridicule along with her fellows. And a Witch at that.

Nevertheless…

"You just got your Striker units off pre-flight checks from the engineers this morning and you already trashed it like this… the crew at the hangar are going to cry, you know," a new voice joined us.

Brigadier General Harley Briggs.

"Oh no."

"General!"

Everyone stood still, offering her their salutes. "Good to know you and Major Macmillan were getting along rather well, to the point of bonding over a session of separate practice for your pupils," she began.

I looked at Macmillan, and then back at the Brigadier General.

"Are we?" I said with a shrug.

"Hey!"

Taking a deep breath, General Briggs again spoke, this time in a much more serious tone.

"Corporal Jean Titor and Major Harvey Macmillan. The two of you are to meet me in my office later today, after you're done with Colonel Gent in the infimary."

… We're in deep trouble for this, aren't we? Macmillan and I.

– –

Somewhere else.

 _"She did WHAT!?"_

 _"It's as you said, Corporal, she went and trashed it just like that."_

 _"… That idiot! I spent a good whole morning trying to make sure it's flyable down here and she just burns and turns in insanely low altitude, moreover on afterburners, and then crashing of all things! God damn it, all that work for nothing!"_

 _"…"_

 _"… How's the Corporal guy?"_

 _"He's, uh, fine?"_

 _"Really? Good to know then. God bless him."_

* * *

 **[ Insert Author's Notes here again ]**

Finally, a Chapter 3 after quite a long time since I did the last one.

Well, to be frank, my interest in keeping this up is like a Ferris Wheel. Sometimes it goes up. Sometimes it goes down. Sometimes it's not even there. Sometimes I just want to have something happen and get it over with. Sometimes I get so absorbed into writing I don't know where to end the chapters.

Anyway, with major school projects finished for my current term, I can probably write more stuff in peace now. But writing this one story isn't just the one thing I wanted to do in my spare time.

So I guess it's time to call it a day and end the chapter here for now.

Or rather at the time of writing I am getting incredibly sleepy so I need to go now. LOL.


	4. Chapter 4

Usual disclaimers: I do not own th-(cut off for the sake of plain laziness).

* * *

"Getting on air with a prototype Striker unit fresh off preflight checks, and then using the very same Striker unit to simulate high-speed strafing runs against an enlisted non-Witch member of the military, and then crashing with it... Major Macmillan, I suppose you do know what happens if any word of this gets out of the base? Never mind the obviously furious faces of your ground engineers back in the hangar, as well as our Corporal here you obviously need an apology for; the people outside this camp isn't going to take to this incident kindly."

Focusing her gaze on the Major right next to me, the Brigadier General started on her lecture.

Macmillan's face was kind of pitiful to say the least. A mix of confusion and realization of what she had done all over.

"For starters," Briggs spoke again, "that Striker unit you just crashed was the latest set of a new-generation equipment sent over to Britannia for testing from Liberion. On you. A customized set catered to your skills and experience, intended to succeed your current unit. Perhaps if you kept your ego in check you would have never gotten into this mess in the first place. Perhaps you wouldn't even have been bothering our latest and only male addition to put workforce here, and an instructor to boot!"

Well, uh, miss..., I'm grateful that you're scolding her for me, but perhaps we didn't need that last bit. Being a man isn't anymore special than being a woman, for me at least.

Hearing that last bit, Macmillan's face turned sour.

"W-Why do I have to care? I can just manage it fine with my old Striker unit anyway."

Whether you can manage it with your old unit or not is not the problem here you bloody idio-

"Whether you can manage it with your old unit or not is not the problem here you bloody idiot."

Did the Brigadier General just read my mind!?

"Despite being a Major I must say that I am very surprised, for lack of a better word..." Her words starting to shake a bit, "... to your god damned attitude on everything you do."

There was a sudden chill inside the office with the Brigadier's stressed-out cold tone in her words.

"You are a Witch holding the rank of Major retained from the day you transferred from Liberion to serve in this unit. I do not deny that in terms of Neuroi kill count you are a gem, but outside of that I have to question how. The Hell. Did you. Earn that 'Major' title. Was it purely because of the kill count, or was it because of your looks, hell... Could it be even because you..."

She paused for a bit, took a deep breath and breathed out.

"... never mind. As angry I might be at the moment I should exercise control over that, and focus on other things at hand. Major Harvey Macmillan, from this point onwards for a month or until your Striker unit gets fixed, you are grounded. That means no operations for you. You'll still attend courses as usual, and I'll make it that should you be in poor behavior during that time, extra disciplinary action will be taken against you," she said. And after taking a deeper breath she bellowed, "Are we clear!?"

Flinching from Brigg's sudden exclamation, Macmillan blurted out a hurried "Y-yes!" in reflex.

And then the Brigadier General turned towards me.

"Corporal Jean Titor," she began. "For this month, I want you to concentrate on jungle training for the new recruits. You are to report to the Colonel on progress of the girls' training. And also another thing…" she said, while glancing towards Macmillan, "... if she tries something funny on you again, you are to report to me. Understood?"

"Loud and clear, Miss," I responded, unhesitatingly.

"All right. Both of you may now be dismissed, and continue to work on your assignments for the day. … And by assignments I mean doing your apologies, both verbal and written, Major. Otherwise expect the higher-ups to come knocking next time."

The two of us exited the Brigadier General's office.

While I was pretty content to enjoy the silence as I walk through the corridor, someone next to me didn't seem to agree with that idea.

Muttering something under her breath, to which I assume to be grumbling about having to get lectured by Briggs on a number of things starting from the crash, she was throwing a few leers at me.

I was not really in a mood to be a wisecracking enlisted soldier taking subtle jabs at a commissioned officer, plus I would love to think that I am not a dick - at least not in the literal sense of it, mind you - so to begin, I broke the silence between us.

"Major," I started. "Hangout at the water cooler. How does that sound?"

She immediately returned me a stare with a raised eyebrow. "Huh?"

"You know, today has been quite the long day so I guess we do need to chill. Also I'd like to talk with you for a bit."

"... All right."

Huh, I was expecting a bit more resistance from that. After all it's not very easy to have someone who hated your guts to begin with to accept an offer for a chill-out in hopes of making peace, I reckon. Then I suppose she didn't really mean to be such a bitch, but maybe I'm being a bit too optimistic about that.

– –

At the water cooler.

We both took a cup each and started pouring some cold water into our cups.

Without saying a word, we started drinking.

It wasn't until a minute or so later that she decided to break the silence.

"So," she began. "What did you want to tell me? Some words of spite for trying to kill you but failing?"

I let out a weak chuckle.

"No. But you know, deep down inside there," I pointed to her chest, "maybe you ain't really bad at all. You know, I like maintaining good assumptions about people no matter how terrible they may be. Well, I have seen a few irredeemable pieces of shit throughout my life so compared to them you might even be a saint."

She gave me a brief puzzled look, but then let out a chuckle herself.

"Pointing straight to my chest... You are a ballsy one aren't you. See, this is why I don't like your guts. You're not so easy compared to the ones I've known before. Behold, world, for this is a man who does not immediately wag his front tail at the sight of me," she quipped.

"Quite the proud one aren't you. Well certainly my first impression of you did not go off the mark."

"But of course," she snorted. "So, what kind of mess did you end up in, the one that landed your sorry ass to this hellhole?"

"Ruining my CO's lawn."

She returned me a raised eyebrow.

"Lies."

"Not kidding about that. Garden's messed up real bad by yours truly."

"Why the hell would you ransack a CO's lawn? Are you looking for some weed!?" she exclaimed, in a puzzled tone.

"Bingo," I said, "I heard he's been keeping a stash of it in the lawn and those are some pretty expensive ones in the black market so... Well there you go."

"You don't look like you smoke these stuff though?"

"Of course not. It's about the money, heh heh."

"Wicked!" she pointed at me using her two pointer fingers, and a naughty wink. "Now that does make sense on the 'ruining CO's lawn' bit."

I finished my cup of water, and went for a refill.

"I guess I like you better now than before," she continued. And then suddenly, it was at this moment I realized something was grabbing my rear. "Now that I am looking at you better, you sure..." she said as she stroked my rear, "have quite the package for a man. Your hips look like they move real well, I'd love for a test drive myself."

"Major Harvey Macmillan," I breathed out, "I believe you do realize that despite being several ranks lower than you I am one of the people who can report directly to the Brigadier General of your misdeeds?"

"Aww, you're no fun. Try to enjoy this a bit will you?"

"Not in the mood for rule breaking now, Major," I quipped. "Besides, you have apology paper works to make... And here comes your, uh, friends."

I glanced over to my side as I realized some extra people in our company having just arrived to this scene.

Captain Urquhart just shook her head in disbelief while Lieutenant Eden was sporting a naughty grin on her face. On the other side of the spectacle I also realized the presence of another figure that seemed to be waiting for me - Gurney.

"I-urgh, I can't believe this. You were just getting lectured by the Brigadier General and now you're out causing trouble again for this gentleman here... Just how much shame do you even have!? We're truly sorry, Corporal. She's just like that..."

Well, you ought not to apologize so much on her stead, Captain. Otherwise I'm just going to remember you by the name 'Captain Sorry.' This is so going into my diary...

"As expected from our shameless flight lead. Goes for a cuppa right after a spicy lecture session."

Some good words coming from Macmillan's fellow person, I reckon; if that grip on my rear during the last unarmed combat training classroom was anything to go by.

Meanwhile next to me was someone with eyes telling me she's expecting me to tell her what to do next, Private Heather Gurney.

"Looks like time's up for me over here as well, I shall be returning to my post because I have to set up my training curriculum for these recruits under my tutelage," I said, waving my goodbye to the trio with a salute. The Lieutenant returned my gesture with a wave and a mischievous grin, while the Captain returned a sharp salute.

Well then. Time to get busy with Gurney and her fellow recruits...

– –

 **INTERMISSION BEGIN**

 _Europe, time and date unknown._

" _The Hermit, Justice, The World… Quite a doubtful reading, I have to say."_

"… _I beg your pardon, ma'am?"_

" _Oh, just some fortune-telling. Say, Sergeant, have you always been a loner?"_

" _As far as I can remember, ma'am."_

" _But you do work well with groups, don't you? Though even with that you just seem quite… detached. I guess you do prefer being a lone wolf, though. One more thing, you seem to be so serious all the time. Don't you ever like let loose even for just a bit?"_

" _I am afraid I am not following you here, ma'am. Besides, if you mean that I need to take a break from time to time, I believe I am pretty well-rested."_

" _Oh, come on! That's what I meant! Ever so stiff, just like that. From the first day I saw you till now! Tell me, is anyone bullying you in the squad? Even though you're the leader, you look like you're barely fourteen."_

" _I believe I am doing fine, ma'am. It might not be becoming of me as a platoon leader to say this… but I have my ways in dealing with the unruly ones. There were indeed some complaints at first but we managed to iron out our differences of opinion now."_

" _Huh… fine, if you say so_ _._ _Ehem. You were not thinking of finding a girlfriend over here do you? Coming all the way from that Southeast Asian country to Fuso and then getting reassigned here… are you following someone?… It'd better not b_ _e.._ _."_

"… _Ma'am, I am merely here for my assignment as instructed. I arrived here for my post as instructed, and I did not come here with the prospect of finding a future spouse to settle down with, moreso a Witch of all things. For me it is duty first and foremost… Looks like it is time for me to return to my barracks. Have a good day."_

"… _Ah, he left."_

–

" _There he went off again…"_

" _That Sergeant, it was that Wing Commander lady of all people giving her time to meet him and he just brushed her off like that?"_

" _That… that's the one_ _lady_ _who's always with Wing Commander Litvyak isn't she?"_

" _She isn't just 'the_ _one lady_ _', she's 'The Evasive' you know!? The Sergeant should feel lucky to be able to talk to her at all…!"_

"… _Eavesdropping is not a nice thing to do, gentlemen."_

" _G-gah! Sergeant!? But you were there just a minute ago!"_

" _That's the Sergeant for you, I bet he'll screw us a few times over if we have to play tag against him."_

" _Well, he's great all right… save for the fact that he cannot get a hit on her at all. It's almost like bullying, I'm not surprised if she's really doing it-"_

" _Hey, that's taboo-!"_

" _Oops."_

"… _You do realize that it is 'The Evasive' I have to be up against, do you? The Wing Commander can dodge even the most sophisticated air defense systems we have today, her being a Neuroi War ace notwithstanding. What do you think I am to do with such an opponent?"_

" _Sergeant, sorry, we're just-"_

" _Sigh. Gentlemen, let's return to the barracks and prepare for dinner. Since we have nothing to do today, I won't excuse any tardiness. Chop chop, let us move."_

" _Alrighty then…"_

"… _Come again?"_

"… _! I mean, sir! Yes, sir!"_

 **INTERMISSION END**

– –

Morning briefings.

Ah, who would ever love going to one so early in the morning. The mere mention of it still makes me want to groan out loud, and it has been that way since I was still fresh as a Private.

However I'm now tasked with one, being an instructor myself. And now here I am, giving one to a group of girls. Not just any girls, those are Witches.

In the perspective of a certain group of people, I suppose I can expect this line of thinking: "Whee! A group of Witches, defenders of mankind, all for myself!"

Driven by the willy, huh? Won't be surprised if their brains were really there after all.

But enough of that for now. It's focus time.

… Though the scenery right in front of me doesn't really look like it has much difference with a school camping session, so part of the tension somehow went away.

In order to prepare the girls for camping in the jungle on missions, I was researching a good area nearby the base to be used for a camping area. To be honest, I only considered doing that because I got warned in advance by the Colonel to not be too harsh on these girls. So if it really was all up to me I'd give them an experience not unlike a baptism of fire. Makes sense, though, you definitely don't want to be losing a group of cadet Witches to a sudden Neuroi ambush. And definitely you don't want your record as team lead cum instructor be smeared with that kind of stain.

… So I thought, in order to help me justify things to my own self, but I still cannot shake away the feeling this scene gave me. The feeling that this looks like a straight Girl Scouts' camping.

Then another feeling struck me, and it wasn't even any better. Worse, I'd say.

That I am training young girls who, for some, do not look like they're past seventeen to prepare for the harshness of the jungle. The jungle ain't anyone's enemy, but it's sure as hell ain't anyone's friend either.

That I am training young girls the art of war. Child soldiers are not exactly anything new. But the mere notion of it isn't anything palatable to talk about either. … Save for that one guy. His growth's somehow gone retarded, not telling you why though.

That, some day, I have to deal with the pain of losing one of these girls in missions. … Argh, just thinking that already gave me a headache.

And then I felt a tap on my side.

"...ir…? S…"

"Huh?"

"S-sir?"

Ah, the always ever-so-helpful Gurney. Say, where did that headache go again?

I turned towards her, casting away all the negative thoughts I had a minute ago. "What is it?"

Her eyes turned towards a pair of her teammates, one of them fidgeting. … Oh, yes.

"Let's see… The loo, eh?"

Abashedly, she nodded. … God, please remind me that I am supervising a military camp consisting of Witches and not a Girl Scout's. Because I feel like a parent looking at their children.

With a smile I replied to her thus.

"Alright, I guess it would do good for me to ask you to pass this around to the other ladies: If you need to relief yourself, go in threes. Two shall stand guard while one goes for it. Take turns if all three of you need to go. Oh, and this goes without saying: No sneaking back into our base for the WC. Remember, there are no such things deep in the jungle. Take care."

And with that said, off they go for their business.

As I see the girls go off, I began recalling something. Something that I should have been aware since I arrived here, but seemed to have gradually pushed to the back of my mind.

So far things has been relatively peaceful and I managed to get on some certain people's good side here, and now that I think of it, knowing what I have heard about this particular base, something felt off.

Did I blend in a bit too well for me to almost forget about this uncomfortable feeling? Was it because of that I feel somewhat complacent? I came here in anticipation of having the unpleasant things I've been feeling here to rear its ugly head, but…

… It's as if it knows I am waiting for it so that I can pounce on it right away.

So I thought, as I raised my rifle to my eye level, staring into its telescopic sight.

Well then.

Will I be done in first, or, will I be able to stop whatever's lurking in wait for me here…?

* * *

 **[ Author's Notes ]**

Hello again. As expected my interest is in heavy swings like my mood, plus I think I'm piling on my bad habit of "having plans that I never execute." Which isn't anything nice that I know of. I mean, that habit of mine is bad. Really.

As a result I decided to end this shorter than where I would have liked it to be (previous chapters had me going into page 10 for each of them in Word, so…) so that I can finally push chapter out and make it stop bothering my mind any further.

Also I think I might have dropped the ball by namedropping and then proceeding to cameo certain already-known entities in the Witches universe when I do not really know them as well enough as I would possibly be had I followed their main series. Granted, I only followed Brave Witches, but it is a show I am guilty of the "Next 5 Seconds" button spamfest offense.

The Witches' universe is one which I admit I am only familiar with the bits that interest me (here's looking at you, a certain Major Porsche). The rest that doesn't fit the bill is nothing more than something for me to acknowledge about the Witches' universe in general, but I guess that's what you get by subscribing to the 'Writing By the Seat of Your Pants' philosophy, something I am a very, _very_ , a big fan of - and guilty of.

All right, maybe I should stop for now and start concentrating on other things. Until we meet again.


End file.
